Morning of the 2nd Silverday of Sprouts, somewhere in
the mountains
You wake up to the smell of roasted bread and cheese. The Knights of
the Order have rekindled the campfire that hisses in the light rain
and placed your breakfast before you and watch you from a respectful
distance.
Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight
Perilake nods thanks
and wakes Avert, the two of them sharing a meal beneath the watching
eyes of the Seekers. Avert stares suspiciously at them, but does not
say a word. When they are done, Perilake rises and the two begin
breaking camp, the seekers leaping to help. "Sir Gorny,"
He asks as their steeds are made ready and they prepare to depart.
"I have met Seekers who swear to protect the Child, and Seekers
who are sworn to destroy them. What can you tell me of this schism?"
"And of the Mother." Avert interrupts before Gorny can
respond, his face intent atop his strange steed. "Tell us of
Mother.
Referee
The other Knight,
barely older than Avert has taken the lead and rain is falling on his
tonsured head. Gorny is riding behind Avert. “The mother is an
example for all of us, steadfast in her belief during the years of
waiting… even when others were doubting, humble and … “ he
hesitates .” … and kind!” He raises his voice to address
Perilake. “The heretics are all outsiders from Altenburgia. They
are evil apostates who … “ he shudders ”… in their blindness
they are willing to commit heinous acts. But their minds are confused
and they even fight amongst themselves.” Midmorning you ride along
a deep gorge and see a fortified cloister on the other side, a
massive outer wall under construction around the monastery, and a
bell tolls again to announce the hour. At noon you reach the
foothills and take a short rest in the lee side of a mound and soon
after you hear angelic singing from a humble chapel. You leave the
steeds behind and enter and the Knights kneel in the small dim room
and some nuns turn around and nudge each other and one after the
other they fall silent and you hear the shuffling of feet and you are
ushered to a back room and to a simple cell where an old woman in
brown habit is kneeling at a window. A young nun next her whispers in
her ear and steadies her when she turns around and upon seeing
Avert's face almost feints. Before you or Avert can move she composes
herself. “I need to speak to my husband … alone.”she says in a
strange hoarse voice. “Take my son to his cell and bath him and …
cut his … “ she curls her lips “ … immodest hair.”
Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight
The young nun moves
to obey, but stops when Perilake stands closer to Avert. The Knight
rests a hand on his son's shoulder, and he reaches out with the
other. "Inga, my love. Please, a moment, as a family, before
anything else." Perilake's voice has always been as golden
and strong as the armour of legend, but it barely holds now, a deep
fracture of emotion threatening to break it entirely. "Let
us take back a moment from what was stolen."
Referee
Inga nods at the novice
who takes a step back and waits at the door. “What was stolen is
gone forever and cannot be brought back.” Her voice sounds
different, older and lacking the warmth you remembered. Her eyes
greedily take in Avert's face and the young man looks confused from
one parent to the other. “I waited ...” her voice breaks and she
closes her eyes. “I will take care of my son now.”
Anastaz, you ride all
morning through the mountains and at noon you stand before the cave,
soaked by a steady drizzle and feverish from a sleepless night. The
ancient acolytes await you and lead you into the tunnels, the air
warm and dry and filled with the sound of chimes. Finally, the child
awakens and peers out from under the blanket; if the acolytes
recognize them, they don't show it. The inner sanctum is lit with
candles. There are fewer acolytes than you remember, and some of them
are armed with daggers. Between them lies the Cured Seer, emaciated
and encrusted in salt.
 |
| Echo Caves |
Sir Anastaz, The
Salt Knight
"Cured Seer, I
have travelled long and far to seek your counsel. I have come to ask
where the Needle Relic can be found, though on my journey a more
pressing matter has arisen." He holds up the child to the
assembled acolytes. "What is to be done with the Child?"
He waits for an answer, and slowly kneels at the Cured Seer's
side.
Referee
Your words echo through
the caves, your apparent transgression only met with incredulous
stares from leathery faces of which many are covered with ancient
fading tattoos. The Cured Seer lies silent and unmoving in their
block of salt.
Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight
The Salt Knight sets
the Child beside him, still holding on to its hand, and licks the
Seer's shoulder.
Referee
The floor of the cave
rushes towards you and next you see
Sir Ludmer, smiling
next to his lowborn wife - A heap of jewels and a wolf before a
burning hut, Seeker Knights slain before them - The child improbably
walking before you on the surface of the sea – The Trail Knight,
strangling his wife with the same smile and a horn sprouting from the
side of his head - The Veiled and the Entangled and the Entombed Seer
lying next to each other with their horse like hair and countless
limbs and dusty bones, bleeding from many wounds and the brotherhood
of the Black Fleece, one after the other, step forward and dip their
weapons in the pooled blood - The Child is looking over their
shoulder and behind them lie the spires of the City bathed in golden
light.
Heldris, in the morning you keep an eye out for the return of the
messenger bird from the battlements but there are only grey clouds in
the sky and you pull your tunic around your shoulders against the
light rain. You hear sawing and hammering from the carpenters who are
reconstructing the gate; Kranach soldiers and Masurian Hussars stand
in line in the courtyard and Voijtech and Captain Gergana pass below
you with a handful of guards. Finally Zoltan and Captain Hroshka
approach you to take their leave. When the Pigeon Knight shakes your
hand he holds it for a moment.. “ I trust you will rule with firm
hands … “ he pauses as if worried by the implication before
adding, “ ... and just and kind. Until we meet again Dove Knight,
at Masur Keep for Sceptremass!”
Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight
"Then let us have
one moment to ourselves, and take care of each other." He nods
at the nun. "For just a moment, please sister." Perilake
reaches out to draw Inga and Avert into an embrace.
Referee
Inga goes stiff as you
embrace her. The nun tries to pull Avert away but he resists and
holds on to his mother. He starts crying.
Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight
Perilake releases
his wife and son, allowing Avert to pull his mother into a deeper
embrace, and stands quickly his face a mask of barely controlled
rage. "Take your hands off my son, nun. You would take him
away again, after all he has suffered?" He snarls. "I
have fought time itself to bring him back to his mother, and you dare
try to snatch him away?"
Referee
The novice startles at
the ferocity of your words and retreats back to the door. Avert is
kneeling before his mother, his arms around her and his head in her
lap. Inga caresses his hair and whispers soothingly in his ear. Then
she looks up. “When you allowed … when our son was taken from
us", she corrects herself " ... I prayed to the Mother to
bring him back. And I waited and prayed for year after year.” There
is a strange ecstasy in her eyes. “Now the mother has answered my
prayers: The Child is born and my son has returned to me.” She
speaks in a formal liturgical tone now as if preaching from the
pulpit. “I believe the Mother has plans for my son that will be
revealed in time. Maybe he will become a prophet or a hermit or a
saint. But his future is in the church.” She helps Avert to his
feet. “Will you allow sister Ecatarina to take care of our son or
will you stand against the will of the church?”
 |
| The Chapel of the Child |
Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight
Perilakes despair at
what has become of his wife can only be seen in the tears in his
eyes, the tremor in his hands. But his voice is strong once more as
he looks between his love and their son. "The will of the
church, or of my wife? Of Avert's mother? Of Lady Inga of Svenrik,
the kindest woman this kingdom has known?" He kneels before
Inga, the tears falling silently down his face. "It is not
my place to stand against your will. Yet it is not so simple."
"I promised I would return our son to you, and for each of us
that has been...a journey of a different span. For him, it has been a
score of seasons since he last saw you." Perilake traces the
outline of Ingas face with a hand, not daring to reach and touch
"For you, an age." He whispers, before regaining his
strength. "For me.... I still see your face as it has been
in all my dreams and memories, my love. The face I see now." "It
is a... hard thing, I know. But Avert is no longer a child."
Perilake bows his head. "That was taken by the Elf before
I found my way to the thrice ninth kingdom. And it was only with the
aid of the clever young man he has become that we were ever able to
return." Perilake looks to Avert. "The Elf stole
you, and even as we walked the path back to home, the wizard Ashling
stole yet more; the years of our life together cruelly snatched away.
I would find him in King Barows court and tear those years from his
entails if such a thing was possible, if such a thing would spare you
this burden, Avert." He looks to Inga. "I would tear
them from myself if it would spare either of you any more pain."
"What is the will of my family? What is the will of our son?
Referee
Anastaz, when you come
to, you lie on a straw bed. A white-haired acolyte cradles the child
and feeds them sweet milk. In the candlelight, you see bread and
dried fruit on a blanket on the floor. When the acolyte notices that
you are awake, she hands you the child, who watches you intently with
bright blue eyes. All is silent except for soft, shuffling steps
echoing through the distant tunnels.
Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight
As the sun shines
down on the hills outside the Sanctum, Anastaz saddles up Tibor. The
Child rests in a sewn pouch strapped to the Salt Knight's chest. He
looks down at the babe, and the Child meets his gaze smiling and not
flinching. It has yet to cry. "To be destined for greatness
is a cruel fate, little one. The people will cry out for their
savior, but you will lead an unexceptional life, I promise you."
Tibor huffs, and gallops northwest.
Referee
Avert is still holding
Inga's hands, unwilling to let go. “Please forgive me, father, but
… I want to stay here, I want to…” He lets out a deep sigh.
“Mother is right—we cannot bring back the years that were stolen
from her, but I can't leave her again.” She pulls him towards
her, tucks his long hair behind his ear, and lovingly touches the
side of his face. She turns to you and says softly, “It is my will,
and it is the will of your son. But you need to see that fate has
brought you here: the Child is born, and the Lost Son has returned on
the same day, in the same place!” You hear whispers
behind you. Dozens of nuns are kneeling in the narrow hallway, their
faces hidden in shadow but their eyes ablaze with rapture. She
addresses them as much as you. “Let it be known that you have kept
your promise and returned your son. You will always be welcome in the
chapel. My son will stay within the bosom of the church, nurtured and
taught scripture, and in time he will lead the Child until the Child
will lead us all.”Avert looks confused
but smiles shyly, embracing you before he is taken away by the
congregation.
That evening, you are
taking a simple meal in the refectory when you hear the unmistakable
sound of Tibor's hooves outside.
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